


I Hear (the blues a-callin')

by thesadchicken



Category: Frasier (TV)
Genre: Multi, lots of different stories, prompts and requests but also my own little day-dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-06 04:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13403133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: A collection of Frasier one-shots. Some of these are prompts and requests I got on tumblr, others are just my own little daydreams.Multiple pairings, multiple chapters, multiple universes.Just a bunch of fun and silliness!





	1. The Dog and the Fawn

Niles Crane was trying very hard not to step in something sticky and orange, but it was particularly challenging, what with all the half-drunk radio hosts shoving him around as they made their way to the improvised bar.

Parties at Frasier’s radio station were tacky, and not in a charming way. The only reason Niles was here at all was to collect his brother and run to the theater. They were to experience a very special representation of Richard the Third. _Of course_ KACL had chosen this evening in particular to hold their annual ‘Radio United’ party. Frasier had insisted that bailing out of this was considered nothing short of a crime at the station, and that he wouldn’t be able to face his colleagues the next day if he didn’t show up.

Niles had decided to humor him. Radio was important to Frasier, after all; he needed the semblance of fame to nourish his over-inflated ego. Whatever. Niles was gracious enough to let him have his fun. But it was taking _forever_ , and he couldn’t find Frasier in the crowd, and it was getting noisier and Niles’ shoes were in grave danger of being splashed by the sticky orange stuff.

To make matters worse, some hooligan had just playfully punched Niles on the arm. And it _hurt_.

“Hey Doc, wanna hear a joke?” the hooligan – whom Niles recognized as Bob “Bulldog” Briscoe – bellowed.

Niles raised an eyebrow, and Bulldog frowned. “You’re not the Doc,” he scratched his bald head.

Niles sighed. “I’m Doctor Niles Crane, Frasier’s brother. We’ve met before.”

Bulldog’s expression went from puzzled to cheeky in a matter of seconds. “You sure? Nah, I would remember a face like that,” he drawled so languidly that Niles looked behind him, expecting to find the big-breasted bimbo Bulldog was most certainly addressing. But no, nobody was there, except for him, which meant –

“Excuse me?” Niles blurted.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Bulldog went on casually, as if he hadn’t just… _flirted_ with Niles. Flirted! Ha! The notion was positively absurd.

“Well, um,” Niles stammered, “I’m looking for Frasier. Have you seen him?”

Bulldog seemed utterly uninterested in what was coming out of Niles’ mouth and more interested in the mouth itself. His eyes roamed from Niles’ lips up to his eyes, and it was difficult not to look away as Bulldog took a step closer.

“Yeah, I think I saw him giggling with Gina in accounting,” he snorted, although his eyes never left Niles’ face.

“So _that’s_ why he wanted to come here so badly,” Niles shook his head, annoyed.

Bulldog muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘I’m kinda glad he did’ before clearing his throat and asking, “Can I get you something to drink?”

Niles peered at the improvised bar and scrunched up his nose. “No, thank you.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bulldog agreed, “they only serve cheap shit at these parties. I haven’t had a sip of alcohol. I gotta drive later anyway: I’m going to this other party where you can get free drinks after midnight, as long as they’re body shots,” he laughed.

Niles nodded silently, pursing his lips. It was getting awkward, this conversation with Bulldog – of all people! – and oh my look at the time oh no they were going to be late and for goodness’ sake where was Frasier?

“How about you join me?” Bulldog was saying.

“I beg your pardon?” Niles blinked.

“Yeah, come on, it’ll be fun.”

Niles opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He couldn’t even think of anything to say. He brought his hand up to rub his forehead. “How can I even begin to tell you what a bad idea that is?”

Bulldog just shrugged. “Okay, whatever.”

They stood in silence for a few moments. Niles looked at the sticky orange stuff to avoid meeting Bulldog’s insistent gaze. He wasn’t sure what was worse: Bulldog’s misplaced interest, or the fact that Niles actually… liked it.

A pair of red high-heeled shoes entered Niles’ field of view, and a sensual female voice addressed Bulldog. “So when are you taking me to that restaurant you promised you’d take me to?”

Niles looked up to see a pretty blonde holding onto Bulldog’s shoulder – although she was a few inches taller than him.

“Next week, sweetheart,” Bulldog said in a mockingly sweet tone before adding, “What are we, married or something? Beat it.”

The woman stuck her tongue out at him and made a rude gesture as she walked away, which only made Bulldog smirk. Niles bit his lower lip and nodded to himself; yes, that made sense, Bulldog being playful with women, Bulldog flirting with women, not interested in Niles at all, just being polite, or perhaps he needed something, a favor, maybe a psychiatrist for his new girlfriend?

It made sense. Really, this was how things were and always would be. What did _not_ make sense was the stinging in Niles’ chest and the sinking feeling in his gut.

“Well, Doc, I really gotta go,” Bulldog said.

Niles nodded. “Yes, um, me too – as soon as I find Frasier.”

“Sure you won’t go to that other party with me?” Bulldog was smirking, and it was hard to tell if he was making fun of Niles or being serious.

“I’m sure, thank you,” Niles said anyway.

“Okay,” Bulldog took a step forward, “I guess I’ll, uh, see you around.”

Niles tried not to notice the way Bulldog’s Adam apple bobbed. “Right, yes.”

And then the impossible happened. One minute they were standing a bit too close to each other, the next their mouths were pressed together.

Niles Crane stood there in absolute shock as Bob Briscoe kissed him. _Such soft lips_ , he found himself thinking, then all he could think was _oh my goodness I’m kissing Bulldog_.

When the kiss ended, a big part of the crowd was staring at them. Niles felt his neck burn with embarrassment. He had actually enjoyed kissing Bulldog – and in public!

He shot the man a questioning – and quite panicked – look, to which Bulldog smirked. “I’ve been known to kiss guys,” he started, then turned to the crowd and shouted, “But only when I’m drunk!”

The crowd cheered, and Bulldog stuck his fists out in the air, laughing along. Niles frowned. “I thought you said you hadn’t had a drop of alco–”

Bulldog interrupted him with another, deeper kiss, before whispering against his lips, “Shut up, Doc, you’re blowing my cover.”

When he finally pulled away, Bulldog turned to the crowd again and screamed, “I am _so_ drunk,” punctuating his sentence with a literal bark – his trademark. Everyone cheered once more.

Niles was starting to feel dizzy. Frasier or not, he needed to go. He needed to get away from this man before he lost his self-control and pulled him into a third kiss. “I really must go,” he said, and started to leave.

“Wait,” Bulldog said.

Niles turned towards him, and for a moment they just stared into each other’s eyes in silence. Then Bulldog smiled. “Ask your brother for my number and call me whenever you feel like body shots, okay?”

Niles couldn’t help but smile back. “I will,” he promised, and he somehow knew he’d be keeping that promise.


	2. Jazz or Classical Music?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny Valentine's Day story.  
> Daphne/Niles.

. 

“Niles, are you listening?”

“Oh, yes, sorry – I got distracted when you mentioned jazz. I mean _really_ , Frasier.”

“What’s wrong with jazz?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with it. But I thought you said you were thinking of a more… steamy evening. Something imprinted with the libertine fancies of the Marquis de Sade’s boudoir.”

“Well, yes, I am. So what?”

“But Frasier! _Jazz_!”

“Will you tell me why you so vehemently object to jazz?!”

“It’s too… chaste.”

“Excuse me?”

“Jazz is for quieter moments… A first date. An evening cooking together. A rainy morning at the piano, singing ‘Cheek to Cheek’ with her by your side, and her hair smells divine, and you simply can’t help –”

“Niles! We were talking about _my_ date!”

“Sorry. What I’m trying to say is that you promised this woman a night of pleasure, and she’s going to be very disappointed if the first thing she hears when entering your apartment is jazz. It’s a mood killer.”

“Alright, mister _love doctor_. What kind of music should I play, then? In your professional opinion?”

“No need to be sarcastic. Everyone knows that classical music is sexy.”

“You’re joking.”

“Absolutely not. Can you honestly say you’ve never felt the feverish passions of Eros take over your body while listening to Brahms’ Hungarian Dance?”

“…”

“Don’t look at me like that!”

“I’m sorry Niles. But how on Earth is Brahms sexier than Peggy Lee?!”

“I was just giving you my own personal opinion.”

“Yeah well your opinion sucks!”

“Yeah well I have a girlfriend and you don’t!”

“Must I remind you why we started this in the first place? I was telling you about my Valentine’s Day date with Carrie.”

“Surely you don’t consider Carrie to be your girlfriend?”

“…”

“I mean, it’s painfully obvious that she just needs someone to warm her bed.”

“How dare you!”

“I’m saying this for your own good, Frasier. You’re going to get attached again and you’re going to get hurt _again_.”

“First of all, Carrie is interested in more than just a physical relationship. And besides, I’m not getting attached.”

“Hm. The fact that you’re so keen on playing jazz – and it’s only your third date – suggests otherwise.”

“Oh will you stop it! Jazz is sexy.”

“Classical music is sexy.”

“The trumpet!”

“The cello!”

“Saxophones!”

“Violins!”

~

Niles buys flowers and chocolates and champagne and even a teddy bear. He makes sure they do every cliché in the book. He takes Daphne to a fancy restaurant and to the theater and to the Space Needle and near the beach. He holds her hand under the table and kisses her under the moonlight. When they get home he plays the piano for her.

When the sun sets over the pink horizon, even the sky seems to wink down at him, saying ‘good job, Niles Crane, you win the Cheesiest Valentine’s Day Ever Award!’

But he doesn’t mind.

He knows that even though Daphne laughed at the giant teddy bear and the heart-shaped chocolates, she’s living the Valentine’s Day she always dreamed of as a kid.  Of course, they both admit that it’s really, really cheesy, and even a bit tacky. But after all they’ve been through they find that they actually _need_ a little bit of cheesy and tacky. At least on this special day.

However, when they curl up on the couch to watch a movie, something shifts in the air. The cozy, comfortable, _jazzy_ mood fades away and is replaced by something wild and desperate. And as Daphne leans in to kiss him, Niles can swear he can hear Brahms’ Hungarian Dance somewhere in the distance.

~

She raises her arm in the air between them and the sunlight paints her skin. Golden glow, morning light – a splash of warmth on her forearm and wrist. She wriggles her fingers. Daytime flickers on her fingernails.

“Daphne,” Niles sighs.

Her hair brushes his cheek as she turns toward him, and she flicks her wrist, her arm still raised in the air. She is looking at him and he is looking at the sun rising on her skin. And then she lets her arms fall back down onto the bed, and he takes her hand and sighs her name again.

“Yes, Niles?” Daphne whispers back.

Goosebumps, heartbeat, _one two three…_

“I love waking up next to you,” he says, and he looks at her.

Her eyes are stars.

“I love you, Niles,” she says, and her voice ripples down his spine.

Hand holding hand, mouth pressing against mouth, heart beating against heart. They float around the bed, around the room, around the house. More, more, more of you, never enough, never too much. She laughs and so does he. The passion is overwhelming; it leaves them breathless and aching for more. Kisses wet and sweet and demanding, and then it’s already noon.

They won’t get out of bed today. They’ll eat burnt toast and cheese, and for once Niles won’t complain about the crumbs between the sheets.

“I love you, Daphne,” he says, over and over and over again.

.

 


End file.
